


Quarantine Confessions

by iamanonjustanon



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Chaotic Household, Family Feels, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamanonjustanon/pseuds/iamanonjustanon
Summary: Short drabbles on how the Scoobies would have spent the quarantine with their Scooby-Dad and Scooby-Mom.
Relationships: Jenny Calendar/Rupert Giles
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18





	1. Willow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Eclectic_Bookworm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Eclectic_Bookworm/gifts).



> For The_Eclectic_Bookworm who single-handedly keeps the Calendiles tag alive (and with top-notch content, at that) Thank you!!! I hope you get to read more Jenny/Giles stories to fill your heart with magic. :)

What’s better than being in home quarantine alone with my books? Being in home quarantine with Ms. Calendar, and Giles, and _their_ books.

Alright, maybe it’s not a question of better because it’s almost doomsday out there all over the world, and there’s really _nothing_ to be giddy about the entire situation.

But, it is _better_ whenever Ms. Calendar and Giles get overly competitive in picking which books on magic I should read first. _Whoever has the most number of titles Willow ends up reading wins, Rupert._

It is _better_ whenever Ms. Calendar accuses Giles of bribing me with hot chocolate and then Giles gets this almost offended look for having been accused of _such villainy, Jenny._

It is _better_ whenever Giles finds out that the bookmarks I use are really old receipts of Ms. Calendar’s with hilarious stick-figure comics of the Scoobies which Ms. Calendar drew herself— _and you dare accuse me of bribery, darling._

It is _better_ whenever I pass by their makeshift scoreboard and see that the read-book pile on Ms. Calendar’s corner is taller than that of Giles’s because maybe, regardless if there's a bribe involved or not, I can't help being biased and a bit in love with Ms. Calendar and all her quirks and all her books—not in a Giles-way _Silly, Xander_ but in a Buffy-to-Mrs. Summers-way.

Why am I still talking?


	2. Xander

Everyone wants Ms. Calendar on their side. I’m talking _video game nights_ here, but sure it pretty much applies to many things too.

As it turns out, I’m _doomed_ to be teammates with Giles for the time being. Of course in a _surprising_ turn of events that _no one ever_ sees coming, we always _lose_.

Ms. Calendar and Willow are great and all. But Ms. Calendar and I? We’re _unstoppable_.

_A force of nature._

_A force to be reckoned with._

_A tour de force._

_A force majeure._

See, these are the kind of things you pick up when you’re paired up with Giles. _Absolutely helpful_ if you are "literary" and need to "make your speaking English good," _right, Buffy_? In the grand scheme of _gaming_ things though? _Not_ by a long shot.

Now I’m all for conceding defeat gameplay-wise, only G-man just _freakin'_ has to _suck_ at trash-talk too. And believe me, this skill is _mission-critical_.

Because Ms. Calendar...Ms. Calendar is _the boss_ in trash talking. She’s _so_ good she makes you second-guess whether she means it or not. She’s Ms. Calendar so we _know_ where she stands until she says things like—

_Keep up! You guys are so slow my 90s dial-up modem is faster than you._

_You’d have better luck trying to score with Snyder, Rupert._

_Nice. You know you’re the reason why pop-tarts have instructions?_

To be fair, Giles _tries—_

_Your-what now? You speak fluent gobbledygook, darling._

_I “scored” with you, didn’t I?_

_Stop with the trash-talk, Jenny. The only trash here are your dietary predilections...Apologies, dear._

He’s _almost, almost_ convincing, except I have never before heard a trash-talker so polite and so smitten.


	3. Buffy

No human being should ever have to carry a care package this heavy, not even if said human being has Slayer strength. 

Okay fine, I know the contradiction in using “care” then complaining in the same sentence but _whatever_. One would think that with all the free time people suddenly have these days, my _real professional_ Watcher and his _equally professional_ girlfriend won’t ever have to sneak out for stolen smooches again. But _no_ , here they are sitting on their porch steps literally sucking faces. 

So yeah, I’m sorry if I’m _projecting_ on to that poor package. I mean, before coming here I have this really _soft_ and _wholesome_ image of seeing my two best friends settling in nicely at the Calendar-Giles _apartment_. 

Instead I’m greeted by this Calendar-Giles _hanky-panky_. And to think I come bearing gifts!

_Ms. Calendar, I bring you gummy bears and this is how you repay me?_

This proves to be very _effective_ because Ms. Calendar is looking like she 100% regrets kissing Giles when it means losing those gummy bears. Giles is trying not to be offended by the implication.

 _Ha!_ Both of them are practically groveling now. For entirely different reasons.

 _Hey Buffy, come on. I promise no more kisses for Rupert this month. Please, please, please just give me one bag—no, four, four bags will do. Please, Buffy, I won’t mind five, you know_ —

 _For goodness’ sake, Buffy, please stop encouraging Jenny’s horribly unhealthy snack choices._ ( _Oh and Jenny, I don’t think you quite understand how bargaining works. You are not in the position to bargain for more here, darling_.)

The more I unpack, the more desperate they get: Hershey bars, Kinder eggs, popping lollipops, Nerds, Skittles, Twizzlers—

_Okay, I'll never have sex with Rupert! Just please hand me the Twizzlers?_

_Jenny!_

And just like that—

TOO FAR, MS. CALENDAR! NOW YOU'RE REALLY NOT GETTING ANY!

I DON'T THINK YOU ARE TOO AFTER THIS, GILES! AND BY THAT, I DON'T MEAN THE CANDIES!

Stupid care package. I swear this thing is so going to Willow and Xander alone. 


	4. Postscript: Rupert, Jenny and Her Spawns

Rupert refuses to admit that he finds the drawings endearing. Not when it’s at the expense of those poor, unsuspecting fruits and eggs that could use some peace and quiet, he supposes.

But he’s got _three_ of them now. Whereas before there’s only Jenny he has to hide the Sharpie markers from, Willow and Xander have been _turned_ , and excelling rather well as _mischief-making spawns_ of Jenny around the apartment. 

Mischiefs that are suspiciously designed for and targeted at him. 

They are all currently gathered in the living room, supposedly pitching each of their own movie recommendations for the night. This is derailed, however, when an exasperated Rupert comes back with a post-it note he found beside the television socket. The socket itself appears to be making a sad face now that it’s adorned with a line drawing of a frowning mouth.

 _With great power comes great electricity bill = (_ the note says. He doesn’t need to ask whose doing it is this time as Willow and Xander make quite the ruckus so he can see their high-five.

“Just think of them as our love letters, Rupert.” Jenny looks up at him innocently, her head now pillowed on his lap. 

He mock glares at the three of them, remembering all of their classic art print-outs with outlandish captions.

> Edvard Munch’s The Scream: _“We’re out of paper towels!!!”_
> 
> Rene Magritte’s The Son of Man: _“When life gives you apples, ask Rupert to make apple muffins!”_
> 
> Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa: _“Sshh...I know where Ms. Calendar’s unhealthy snack secret stash is.”_

“Yeah, Giles. We troll you ‘cause we love you,” adds Willow who is sitting on the rug with Xander. They have taken five _perfectly fine on their own_ eggs out of the fridge. Both drawing on the eggs with faces that are fairly looking like caricature versions of himself and Jenny, if his glasses and her fringe are any indication. 

“By troll we don’t mean the mythical, cave-dwelling creature, alright?” says Xander helpfully. 

“As a matter of fact, I do know what _trolling_ means in this context,” answers Rupert with a smirk. “Oh, don’t act so surprised, Xander. You forget I live with Jenny.”

"Attaboy," Jenny chuckles. Rupert turns to her, his fingers gently threading through her hair.

“You know, you used to be inconspicuous about this...uh...trolling. This is certainly not your MO,” says Rupert as he observes Willow and Xander’s admirable concentration on their handiwork. He tries to downplay his obvious fondness as he looks at his troublemakers.

“Sure they can have their own MO. I train my 'spawns' well, you know? You’re in good hands.”

“Spoken like a proud mother prankster.”

“Mm-hmm. Wait till you see their _lemon-Synder_ and _lemon-Rupert_ magnum opus tomorrow. There’s even a spoof scripted by yours truly to top it off.”

Rupert pales.

“What? That’s team effort for you, babe.”


End file.
